Gift of Gratitude
by Polish Mermaid
Summary: Claudine Natel, a widowed shop keep, has an encounter with Mons. Madeleine, aka Jean Valjean.


The clinking bells of the front door alerted Claudine Natel that a customer had come into her store.

She turned from the shelf she was stocking to find a tall, well dressed man, removing his hat and bowing to her in greeting. Claudine's heart quickened at the sight of Monsieur Madeleine.

Yes, he was the Mayor of Montreuil, and one of the most generous men of the town, but there was a sadness about him, which troubled Claudine. Although Monsieur Madeleine was not a frequent visitor to her shop, when he did come in (and it was generally for something for his daughter Cosette), he was kind, humble, and thankful, but he never spoke more than his gratitude.

Claudine inhaled deeply and smoothed the apron that covered her skirt. It was very early, and she wasn't expecting customers, and she had forgotten to pull her hair back into its everyday chignon, but at the moment he opened the door, her long silvery hair hung lose about her shoulders.

'Nothing I can do about it now,' she thought as she smiled at this quiet and poignant man.

"Good morning, Monsieur Madeleine. How may I help you this fine morning?"

"Good morning, Madam. Natel." He glanced quickly around her shop before meeting her eyes again.

When his dark hazel eyes met with hers, Claudine thought he looked very tired and troubled. Hopefully, she had what he needed.

"I am wondering if you had any apples, but I can see that you do not. I was hoping to purchase two for my daughter."

"I am very sorry, Monsieur Madeleine, but you are correct. Unfortunately, I do not have any, and I do not know when I may."

She glanced about her store for a substitute and then remembered the pears she purchased yesterday for herself, as a treat for her lunch.

"Excuse me, Monsieur Madeleine, I shall be right back." She quickly walked to her back room where she kept her personal belongings and pulled the two pears that were ripening on her windowsill. Although the sun was dim today, the pears did ripen a bit, and Claudine could feel their softness. She held them to her nose, and she could smell their sweetness, and she knew the young girl would thoroughly enjoy the pears in lieu of an apple.

She walked through the opened curtain that separated the store from her back room and proudly displayed the pears in her small soft hands.

"I hope these pears will suffice, Monsieur Madeleine," she said and extended the pairs to Jean.

Claudine watched as a smile quickly spread across his weather worn face. His smile made his handsome features light up his face, and Claudine could see he was pleased with the pears.

"Those are wonderful, Madam Natel! Pears! We have not had something as luxurious as this in a very long time. Cosette will be so happy. She is a bit under the weather, and when she is not feeling well, apples always help."

Claudine could see merriment dance in his eyes at the prospect of presenting the little girl with such a special surprise.

"Well I am sure these pears will work their special magic on your daughter, Monsieur Madeleine. I am sorry that she's not well."

Jean shook his head.

"It is just a little cold, but I try and do anything I can for her. She is my most precious treasure."

He took the ripened fruit from her hands. His calloused fingers brushed Claudine's supple ones, and she felt something she had not felt since her girlhood. A spark, a jolt.

Monsieur Madeleine pulled his hands away quickly and the pears fell from his hands.

"Madam Natel," he said, bending down to retrieve the pears.

"I am so sorry. They slipped from my hands."

She bent down as well, and picked up the fruit. She looked at them carefully, and handed the fruit back to him.

"No worries, Monsieur Madeleine. They did not bruise."

They were face to face, bending on the floor, when Monsieur Madeleine extended his hand to assist Claudine. She placed her small hand into his rough large one, and they rose from the floor. Her hand trembled within his, but Claudine hoped he did not notice.

"How much do I owe you, Madam Natel?" he asked, reaching for his purse.

Claudine shook her head.

"Nothing, Sir, nothing at all. My gift to your ailing daughter."

She smiled at him, which he returned graciously.

"That is very generous of you, Madam Natel, but I cannot accept these without paying."

She could see a faint blush rise upon his already ruddy cheeks.

"You can and you will. If it were not for you and the success of your factory, then God knows where I might be now. Your factory keeps my little store alive, and in turn keeps me alive. It is all I have, and this is my small gift of gratitude."

"You are very kind, Madam Natel. Thank you very much. I have no doubt Cosette will be delighted."

He put his hat on and bowed to her.

"Thank you again."

He opened the door, the bells tinkling sweetly, and he was gone.

Claudine took a deep breath and sat upon an old bench near the door.

She watched his tall figure, from the door window, walk down the path, when he stopped and turned and looked toward the store.

Claudine, horrified that he possibly saw her watching him, quickly bent down, as if she was picking something up from the floor.

"Mon Dieu!" she cried, laughing at her immature demeanor. But her laughter made her double over with glee, and she felt like a girl again.

When she was finally able to control her laughter, she got up and stood in front of the door. Monsieur Madeleine was gone from her sight, but not from her thoughts.

"He is a lonely man," she said to Hugo, the best mouser cat ever to live. Hugo jumped up onto the bench and purred as he settled into a patch of sunlight. She stroked her companion and sighed.

"I have you, Hugo, but I must admit that I am lonely too. But he is the Mayor of this town, and I am certain he would have no interest whatsoever in a shop keep."

Hugo purred loudly upon his mistress' touch.

"Ah well, back to work." She picked up her broom and began to sweep the dust from her humble shop, but the one thing she could not sweep away was the feeling of connection with she felt with Monsieur Madeleine when their hands touched.

"You silly woman," she chided herself as she continued with her chores, but no matter how busy she became throughout the day, Monsieur Madeleine was constantly in her thoughts.


End file.
